


Ruat Caelum

by Skywalker



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Armpit Kink, Awkward First Times, Beating, Bets & Wagers, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Boots - Freeform, Breast Fucking, Chair Sex, Character Death, Childhood Friends, Collars, Couch Sex, Cowgirl Position, Cunnilingus, Death Threats, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Love, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Floor Sex, Foot Jobs, Fuck Or Die, Gags, Glove Kink, Gloves, Gunplay, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Hugs, Jossed, Killing, Leashes, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Missionary Position, Multi, Naked Cuddling, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Panties, Princes & Princesses, Prisoner of War, Racism, Rape, Riding, Rimming, Servants, Shameless Smut, Space Opera, Submission, Threats, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Uniforms, Voyeurism, Wall Sex, War, wakamezake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skywalker/pseuds/Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saazbaum points a gun at Slaine and tells him and Asseylum to fuck like bunnies as part of his plan to produce a puppet child-heir to the power of Aldnoah. Inaho is added to the mix and pulls off a plan of his own. Written for /a/ after episode 7, so the premise will inevitably be Jossed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i

“Good evening, your highness,” he drawls, standing in the doorway as though this were an ordinary social call. He visits her apartments – no, her prison – punctually every evening, updating her on the progress of his conquest of Earth. After three years of war, the Vers Empire has almost completely eradicated the United Forces. Saazbaum's visits are, without a doubt, the worst hour of her day.

But she sets her book beside her on the couch and straightens her shoulders, every inch a princess even in her simple white dress, and faces him levelly. “Good evening, Count Saazbaum.” She does not stand. A princess does not stand for a count, and she uses every scrap of formality she can muster to remind him that holding her against her will is high treason. “I hope you’ve reconsidered your current course of action.”

“I’m afraid not.” But he does not enter the room, or take his usual place in the elegant chair beside her, and the change in routine makes her heart pound. Something has changed, for better or worse. “But I have brought you a… present.”

For worse, she decides. “Very thoughtful,” she says neutrally, armoring herself against whatever he has prepared with icy formality. 

He crosses the room sinks to one knee at her feet. It’s such an uncharacteristic act of deference for a man holding his princess captive that a shiver runs down her spine. “Princess Royal Asseylum Vers Allusia,” he muses. He looks her over the way she’s seen Terran soldiers look at captured kataphracts, evaluating their worth. “Heir to the imperial throne of Vers.”

“To which you swore an oath of fealty,” she says, struggling to keep her voice level with him so close and obviously appraising. 

He ignores the remark. “And to the power of Aldnoah.”

Her fists clench in the folds of her dress. “I will give you none of it.” They’ve had this conversation before, and every time she has refused. She will not enable this traitor to wage war against her grandfather or the people of Earth. 

“You won’t,” he concedes dispassionately. He extends a gloved hand, and places it gently on the slight curve of her stomach, running it over the thin material of her dress. 

What he’s implying is so horrific that it takes her a moment to process it. She stands and jerks back involuntarily, so forcefully that she shoves the couch back with her, and slaps his hand away. “You wouldn’t dare—”

“I wouldn’t take you against your will,” he agrees calmsly. He does not drop his hand, but he stays where he is, kneeling, not coming any closer to her. “I have resigned myself to never controlling the power of the gods, your highness. Doctor Troyard found a way to divert its power from the imperial line, but I have concluded that his research died with him. So I settled on the next best thing: controlling the person who controls the power of the gods. It’s unfortunate that the current wielders are… intractable. But that won’t be a problem for long.” He stands languidly and snaps his fingers. 

A gray-uniformed noble appears in the open doorway, dragging something on a rope –

No, dragging someone on a leash. A groggy-looking, fair-haired young man, gagged and blindfolded, with his hands tied tightly behind his back. He has been stripped to a pair of loose trousers, and his bare chest is mottled with bruises and cuts and one puckered wound that looks like a bullet has torn through his shoulder. 

“Slaine!” The scream slips out, anguished, before she can control her tone. She flushes deeply, hating what Saazbaum has done to him and that Saazbaum will hear how much it hurts her to see Slaine like this. But Slaine straightens at the sound of her voice, head whipping in her direction, and he shouts something behind his gag. The noble in gray gives Slaine a vicious kick that sends the younger man crumbled to the floor, and holds him there with a leather boot to Slaine’s chest. Still, Slaine’s head stays turned in her direction, straining toward her… She wheels on Saazbaum, all thoughts of decorum forgotten. “You—”

“As you said, your highness,” he says dryly, holding up a hand. “I wouldn’t dare harm the princess royal of Vers. Nor would it be wise to do so. You see, Doctor Troyard found a way to convince Aldnoah to recognize another bloodline.” His cold gaze drifts to Slaine, the same appraising way he had stared at her a moment earlier. “The greatest control will come from uniting the bloodlines blessed by the power of the gods.”

Slaine shouts something again, unintelligible but frantic, and the gray-uniformed noble sends a boot slamming into his chest. Saazbaum offers him a thin smile at the outburst, like a deranged father observing the antics of a willful child. He turns to the gray-uniformed noble and takes the leash, jerking Slaine half-upright with it. The force of the gesture leaves Slaine gasping for air, his shouting suddenly quieted, and Saazbaum takes Slaine’s chin in his hand, stroking the curve of Slaine’s cheek with a gloved thumb. 

“I know,” he murmurs, pulling Slaine’s battered body against his legs with disturbing intimacy, and leaning close to Slaine’s bruised face. “I’ve heard Cruhteo complain about how close the two of you became. You would never lay a finger on your princess. But if you don’t…” He shrugs. “She won’t have any value to me. And I think you know what I do with useless things, Slaine Troyard.” Slaine freezes, silent, and Saazbaum pats him on the head. “Clever boy.” He turns to look at Asseylum without releasing Slaine. “The same warning applies to you, your highness. Prove yourself useful, or he dies.” 

Slaine’s muffled shouting begins again, and this time neither Saazbaum nor his lackey does anything to quiet him. Asseylum can guess what Slaine is trying to convey: that he would rather die than hurt her. But it’s no use, because she would rather die than see him hurt, and from the lazy way, self-assured Saazbaum is watching her, she can tell that he knows it. 

“You’re a monster,” she says, just loud enough to be heard over Slaine’s distorted protests, clasping her hands tightly together so Saazbaum won’t see them shaking. “You’re a monster, and I will stop you, someday.”

He offers her a slight, ironic bow. “You’ll forgive me, your highness, if I find your threats slightly trite.”

“They’re promises,” she says curtly. Slowly, with trembling legs, she crosses the room and kneels by Slaine’s side. She tugs him gently away from Saazbaum’s grip, and the count offers enough slack on that awful leash to let Slaine fall into her arms. Slaine starts trying to tell her something from behind the gag, but she places a finger to his lips, and he falls into a slump-shouldered silence. Wordlessly, she rests her forehead against his. There are things she refuses to say in front of Saazbaum, but that she hopes she can convey to Slaine through the warmth of her trembling arms – that if she is going to be used like this, she is glad to have him there. That it will not be as bad as it might be, with someone she has loved since she was a child. She wishes she had told him how much he meant to her before. It would make this so much easier for both of them. 

Now she prays, silently, that he will understand. 

“Leave us,” she says, looking up to Saazbaum with every ounce of royal dignity she can still muster in this situation.

“I can’t do that, your highness,” he says smoothly, but he waves a hand at the gray-uniformed noble, who hands him something metallic, bows to Saazbaum and then to Asseylum, and walks from the room. Saazbaum holds the metallic something up to the light, and she can see clearly that it’s a revolver. Though she wants to provide reassurance to Slaine, she trembles at the sight of it, and Slaine’s head tilts questioningly, worriedly, at her in return. Saazbaum settles into his customary chair, the gun in one hand and the end of Slaine’s leash in the other. His firm grip on the leash makes it clear that he won’t be letting Slaine out of his restraints any time soon, either. “I suggest you begin.”

She hates him like she’s never hated anyone before, for using her own best emotions against her and mocking her while he does it. But even as she scowls at him, she keeps her body gentle against Slaine’s, conveying only tenderness and affection. She draws away from him just enough to kiss him lightly on the forehead, refusing to burden his conscience any more than necessary. It seems like Slaine understands, because he quiets at the kiss, and slumps against her with a heavy air of resignation. 

Saazbaum nods approvingly. “Since this is not the most intimate setting,” he drawls, twirling the gun lazily, it may take some special ministration on your part to ensure that he’s up to the task.” Slaine flushes red beneath the gag and blindfold, and she’s certain she’s blushing just as fiercely. The gun clicks in Saazbaum’s hand, and he points it directly at Slaine’s heart. “Begin with your hands, your highness.”

Her stomach drops in a wave of sudden terror. But at the same time… her abdomen fills with a rush of warmth, and her breath catches in her throat. The warmth spreads across her body as what she’s about to do – what she has to do – becomes very, very real. She has fantasized about touching him, about him touching her, on the voyage to Earth. Never like this, of course, but she has been fascinated by him since he appeared in front of her five years ago, and as she grew older, most of her daydreams had begun with the memory of his lips against hers in the bathhouse. The heat coils between her legs, an electric tingle concentrated on one burning point, and she squirms slightly, involuntarily, sliding her thighs together beneath the thin fabric of her dress, and taking some small measure of relief from the friction of her panties against her clit. 

Behind her, Saazbaum chuckles. “Perhaps the gun wasn’t necessary, after all…”

She ignores him but swallows hard, her flush of longing for Slaine mixing uncomfortably with her fear and her hate for Saazbaum in the pit of her stomach. She places a pale, shaking hand over Slaine’s heart for a moment, feeling his wild heartbeat. Is it too much to hope that some of his racing pulse is partially driven by anticipation, too, rather than all fear and hate…? She slides her fingers lightly over his abdomen, then to the drawstring of his flimsy trousers, and she waits there, waiting for an affirmation from him. Even in this miserable situation, she wants him to give her a hint that he wants this from her, that maybe his daydreams have involved her, too.

His breath catches in his throat, and he nods.

She slips her hand below his waistband, flushing deeper as her fingers slip over the curls of his pubic hair. He groans quietly and arches into her touch, the small motion pressing his cock into her hand. She almost recoils, but refuses to give Saazbaum another chance to laugh at them. So she wraps her fingers tentatively around him, keeping her loose grip even as his cock twitches in her hands and he turns his unseeing face away from hers in pink-cheeked embarrassment. 

“Remove his trousers,” orders Saazbaum, tapping the gun against the arm of his chair for emphasis. 

There’s a guttural growl to his voice she hasn’t heard before that sent another flood of heat through her body, and she is almost glad of the chance to obey. As she shifts to strip Slaine naked, she grinds her thighs together, biting her lip and grateful for the momentary relief of cloth against skin as she settles between Slaine’s legs. She returns her attention to his cock, wrapping both hands around him and watching his face intently. He groans again, bucking into her fingers, and it’s… gratifying to see always-formal, polite Slaine panting because of the way she touches him. She slips into a kneeling position, so that she can grind her heel against her clit as she strokes him. His cock is slick and stiff now, and he murmurs something quiet behind the gag as she falls into a rhythm, moving her whole body as she jerks him off so that every time her fingers reach the base of his cock, her clit rubs against her foot, sending tiny pulses of pleasure into her belly –

“Your mouth, your highness.”

Slaine thrusts hard into her hands at Saazbaum’s words, and she’s startled enough that she turns to look at him, incredulous. The gun is still pointed at Slaine, but he’s staring obviously and lavaciously at her hands around Slaine’s cock. This isn’t just about Aldnoah, she realizes. The two of them are satisfying Saazbaum's personal perversions as well.

She turns back to Slaine, licking her lips unconsciously. He’s turned in her direction again, and there’s a guilty hunch to his sweat-sheened shoulders that makes no sense until she realizes he wants this even more than Saazbaum does. The flash of understanding drags a tiny, breathless gasp from her lips, and experimentally she pulls her hands back. Slaine groans behind his gag and turns his blindfolded face away from her again, the obvious posture of embarrassed guilt reaffirming her moment of intuition. 

Asseylum brushes her long hair away from her face and lowers her head, prostrating herself. Slowly, experimentally, she laps at the head of Slaine’s cock with the tip of her tongue, then pulls back, sliding her tongue over her parted lips and contemplating the sweaty, salty taste. It is humiliating to do this in front of Saazbaum, but the act by itself… she looks up from beneath her fluttering lashes to gaze at Slaine. His head is thrown back and his chest is heaving, and seeing the effect she has on him sends another flood of warmth between her thighs. She bows her head and licks him again, a long, wet slide from his balls to the tip of his cock; then, liking the particular breathless pitch of his voice as he tries to tell her something indecipherable, and repeats the movement. On the fourth repetition, she realizes that he makes the most noise as she licks the underside of his head, so she takes it in her warm mouth, still licking at the underside with little circular motions of her tongue. Slaine is thrusting into her now, pressing his cock deeper into his mouth, and she wriggles her bottom in the air, undignified, as she attempts to coax additional friction between her panties and her clit. 

“Keep sucking,” commands Saazbaum, his voice suddenly behind her, and then the toe of his boot is pressed lightly between her legs. She moans around Slaine’s cock and rubs against Saazbaum wantonly, instinctively, before her mind realizes she should be ashamed. She exhales in a frustrated, unhappy mewl, at the situation, but doesn’t move away from the impersonal, steady pressure of smooth leather against her panties. I wouldn’t take you against your will, she remembers, but now she’s grinding herself against his boot and doesn’t want him to step away. “Slaine Troyard,” he sighs, rocking his foot against her in time with Slaine thrusting into her mouth, so that her body shifts against the two of them in a fast, steady rhythm. “Can you imagine what she looks like right now?” He laughs, still teasing her clit. “I’m sure you’ve thought about it enough to have a good idea. Those soft lips stretched around you, her eyes filled with adoration, driven wild by having your cock in her mouth…” To his credit, Slaine tries to shout something back at Saazbaum, but he doesn’t stop fucking her mouth at the same frantic pace. And Saazbaum… hearing herself described that way fills Asseylum with a rush of wanton shame, but it almost seems like he’s ignoring her now, his attention fixed entirely on Slaine. “The princess royal of the Vers empire, on her knees for you.” 

He twists the toe of his boot, pushing aside her folds, and puts pressure directly on her clit. Her gasp comes out as a hum against Slaine, and she doesn’t know if it’s Saazbaum’s words or the buzz of her lips against his cock, but Slaine comes with a gagged groan. Before she can pull away, Saazbaum has a hand to the back of her head, holding her there until Slaine slides back against the floor and the last of his come is dripping down her chin. 

“I expected more from you,” Saazbaum drawls, still focused on Slaine. He sets his boot on the ground again, leaving her wanting and wide-eyed as he jerks hard on Slaine’s leash. “She’s done so much for you, and you couldn’t do anything for her.” Slaine’s head snaps around furiously, blindfolded gaze leveled directly at Saazbaum, and her heart breaks a little at the animal ferocity in his tense shoulders. He’s taking the comment as something deeper, about the imperial family taking him in, and about Slaine not being able to find her after her supposed death. Saazbaum is a master at manipulating both of them, after all. The count runs a thumb over Slaine’s bottom lip; Slaine tries to jerk away but is thwarted by the leash. Saazbaum’s gloved fingers skate over Slaine’s cheek and neck and pluck at the gag’s bindings, leaving Slaine free to –

“You bastard—” is all Slaine manages to growl before Saazbaum strikes him across the face with the revolver. The force of the blow should have sent him to the floor, but the leash goes taut and Slaine is limp in midair for a moment before he can struggle back to his knees. By then, Saazbaum has the pistol pressed to the side of Slaine’s head, and is casting a sidelong glance at Asseylum. The gun is a warning for her to behave, too. “I’ve indulged you for your father’s sake,” says Saazbaum, “but you will address me as my lord—” he presses the gun a little closer to Slaine’s head, ruffling his fair hair “—when you are invited to speak at all.” Slaine grits his teeth, bound hands clenching into fists; if Saazbaum notices, he gives no sign of it. She’s never seen gentle, polite Slaine like this with anyone. “And you’re neglecting her highness.” The implied threat – or the implied opportunity? – leaves Slaine silent and wary, his head turning back in her direction. His worried, sightless expression melts her heart, and, abashed, she wipes her chin clean with the back of her hand. Saazbaum gives them another twisted, indulgent smile. “I suggest you disrobe, your highness, or you’ll make this challenging for him.”

Slaine’s jaw sets in a way that indicates he wants to denounce Saazbaum’s treachery and general perversity, but the gun is still firmly against his head. “Then unbind him,” she says. Her voice is breathier than befits an imperial princess, but it is reasonably commanding considering that she had been thrusting against his boot a moment earlier. 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” The hand with the leash strokes Slaine’s cheek, then slides down his neck to circle the bullet wound on Slaine’s shoulder. “He makes a good deal of trouble for my staff when he’s free.” His indulgent smile thins and widens into a smirk. “I understand that you’d prefer him to undress you, your highness, but I cannot take the risk.” 

She stiffens with indignation, and Slaine looks as though he wants to shout again, regardless of the gun to his head. No – she can’t let Saazbaum hurt him anymore. “Slaine,” she says quickly, cutting him off before he can fall into any more trouble protecting her. Then, more gently, reassuringly – “Slaine. I’ll do it.” The thought of doing this for Slaine makes it easier; she unlaces the shift deftly and pulls it over her head in a businesslike manner. In her daydreams, this was always more romantic – Slaine’s calloused hands brushing against her breasts as he tugged her top away, or sliding over her hipbone as he removed a skirt. But this is a nightmare, not a daydream, and Saazbaum narrates quietly as she strips free of her underthings, while Slaine clenches his teeth.

“—I’m certain our friend Cruhteo never let her show you this, though I suspect she wanted to. How often have you considered her undressed, Slaine Troyard? You’re too young to appreciate that her body is at its peak now, lush and firm at the same time. Her breasts bounce as they slip free of her dress, those pink, pert nipples already stiff. The curls between her legs are damp. Imagine how wet she is only a little further back, if you spread her pale thighs and her swollen lips–” 

“That’s enough,” she says quietly, setting her panties aside as Slaine gives a strangled groan. He’s hardening again already, just from Saazbaum’s words. 

“As you wish.” Saazbaum offers her an ironic bow, and pulls Slaine to his feet with a jerk of the leash. “Repay her highness in kind,” he orders, giving Slaine’s leash slack and pushing him in her direction. 

Slaine stumbles for an instant, off-balance without the use of his arms, but she reaches out and catches him. She pulls his body against her, pressing her small breasts against his chest and the golden thatch of her pubic hair against his cock as she draws him close. She lifts onto her toes for an instant and kisses him lightly, tenderly, to convey that it isn’t just her body that wants him, and that in different circumstances this would be something she welcomed wholeheartedly. “I’m ready,” she whispers, lying back on the couch. She pulls him down with her, so that he’s kneeling between her spread legs.

He hesitates a moment, then lowers his head to press his lips to hers. It’s a clumsy gesture, since he’s blind and off-balance, but she cups his face in her hands and guides him into the kiss, gratified by his attempt to return her gesture, and touched by the gentle, out-of-place romance of it. “Princess…” he whispers, pulling away.

She puts a finger to his lips. “I told you, it’s fine.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, then nods.

He explores her body without sight or fingers, planting light kisses down her neck and collarbone. Her breath hitches when his lips reach her breast, and he pauses, clearly concerned for a moment before he realizes that the noise is a sigh of anticipation. His brow furrows, and he explores the swell of her breast with the pliant warmth of his tongue, slowing at the smoother, more tender skin of her areola, then licking a slow, careful circle around her nipple. She grinds against his leg as he wraps his lips over her breast and suckles, her nipple stiffening even more under his patient, reverent ministration.

“Slaine – Slaine, please!” she gasps, her voice pleading as she thrusts desperately against his leg, her thighs wrapping around him and fingers digging into his back. 

“A princess shouldn’t beg, your highness,” Saazbaum says lazily. She and Slaine both turn toward his voice; he’s resting on the far arm of the couch, and sounds, disconcertingly, like Cruhteo giving her a lecture on the etiquette of dealing with Terran leaders. “A princess commands. She should be firm—” he curls his fingers into Slaine’s fair hair, hard enough that she sees Slaine bite his lip to stop from crying out “—in making her wishes known—” he yanks Slaine’s head back, so that Slaine’s mouth is nestled between her legs “—to those beneath her.” She stays motionless, wary of the gun in Saazbaum’s other hand and the tight grip he still has on Slaine’s hair, but he doesn’t seem inclined to harm Slaine any further. “Continue.”

She reaches to squeeze Slaine’s shoulder lightly, reassuring him. He hesitates, then lifts his chin and licks tentatively at her mons, so close to where she wants that she squirms underneath him in quiet frustration. Saazbaum chuckles, and pushes Slaine’s head lower. The next lick flicks between her lips, and she gasps so loudly that Slaine looks vaguely alarmed. But he leans forward to lick her again, and Saazbaum pulls his head up slowly so that Slaine’s tongue laps from her cunt toward her mons in a long, slow gesture, and she arches into his mouth as it slides over her clit. It sends a jolt through her lower body that leaves her knees week and her chest heaving, and she finds herself fighting the urge to curl her thighs around him and hold him tightly in place. 

But Saazbaum is already drawing Slaine back by his hair, and her fists curl in frustration at the loss of a tongue between her legs. “What did I say about commands, your highness?”

“Slaine—” She screws her eyes shut in frustration and bites her lip. And then all attempts at self-denial crumble, and her words escape in a needy rush, and she looks pleadingly up at him. “I want to come. I want you, and I don’t want you to stop for anything—” 

Saazbaum pushes him back down to her clit with a smirk. Her outburst seems to have driven Slaine to new levels of enthusiasm, because his tongue presses harder against her, and Saazbaum has to murmur something in his ear about rhythm and being a good dog. She ignores him. Her world narrows to the steady, pebbly feel of Slaine’s tongue between her lips, until every lick sends a pleasurable jolt through her, building stronger until an electric shiver through her entire body, starting at her clit and spreading through her body in a warm flush. She lets out a long, high gasp, and Saazbaum holds Slaine still, his tongue warm against her as she shudders through her orgasm and lies boneless against the couch. 

“Well done.” Saazbaum’s voice stirs her from her panting reverie; he pulls Slaine close again, smoothing his mused hair almost idly. “But, as rewarding as this has been, you two have business to attend to.”

She forces herself to sit up and realizes that Slaine is hard again, even though Saazbaum has him pulled back in a spine-twisting position. Even blindfolded, he leans toward her as far as the leash will allow. “And then you’ll let us be,” she says quietly, feeling her nakedness and vulnerability keenly as she attempts to make the demand. 

“If you’re compliant,” he nods, “if you’re both compliant, my staff and I will leave him with you until tomorrow morning.”

Slaine frowns uncertainly at this; she reassesses the bruises on his body and wonders how long it’s been since he had an entire night without being abused somehow. Very well. She’ll use what little power she has to secure that small respite for him. She leans forward and rests her forehead against his once again, an oddly platonic gesture after what they’ve just done to each other. When he makes no move to pull away, she murmurs, quietly, “We accept.”

She considers what will be most comfortable for Slaine, bound as he is, and shifts to straddle him. She hesitates there a moment, bracing herself to take this particular plunge, until his head bows against her, resting just over her heart apologetically. 

No, that’s not right. She doesn’t want him to be any more miserable than he has to be. She kisses his tousled head, and drops one hand to his cock. The other slides between her legs experimentally; through her curly hair to her dripping wet lips, and squirms as her own fingers pass over her clit. She spreads her slick, hot lips for Slaine, and lowers herself onto his cock. 

“Pr—princess—” he groans, bucking into her, but she only has a little more than the tip of him in before it starts to hurt, a dull pain of being stretched further than her body has been before. Despite her resolution to make this easy for Slaine, a mewling, unhappy noise escapes from her, and Slaine tilts his face toward hers, stricken. Hesitantly, he leans forward to plant a light kiss on her collarbone, and she throws an arm around him impulsively, pressing him close so she could both brace herself and reassure him. She squeezes her eyes closed and forces herself down another inch, biting her lip, and, for the moment, glad of the blindfold. Slaine makes a muffled, appreciative noise from between her breasts, and she slides further down his cock. The pain becomes sharper, and she squeaks miserably again, wriggling her ass to try and find a more comfortable angle. She had known that her first time would be painful, but she’d never stopped to think about what kind of pain it would entail. With a sharp intake of breath, she pulls herself up again, pressing Slaine close to her chest as she rises, then falls and rises again, still wincing. 

“I admit, this would be more enjoyable for you if he could be more attentive,” muses Saazbaum. His boots click behind her, and then one of his hands is burrowing between her legs. The smooth, impersonal fabric of his white gloves slides easily through her wet lips to her clit, rubbing a practiced circle around it. She shudders under his hand and presses her body away from him, clinging more tightly to Slaine. Slaine’s shoulders tense under her hand; he must have heard Saazbaum’s boots on the hard floor or felt the familiar fabric of Saazbaum’s gloves as the count touched her, because he seems like he’s about to start struggling again. She can’t let that happen. She cups his cheek tenderly, and sinks down on his cock again as though they hadn’t been interrupted. 

But it’s different, this time. Saazbaum flicks a finger across her clit as she lowers herself onto Slaine, and the now-familiar pulse of pleasure washes out the pain. She grinds into his hand, and the movement takes her further down Slaine’s cock than before. 

“If only you’d been this cooperative about Aldnoah earlier, your highness,” Saazbaum whispers, his breath hot and close in her ear. She flinches and presses closer against Slaine, then squirms as his lips inadvertently pass over her nipple again. Saazbaum laughs quietly, and cups her breast with the hand that isn’t massaging her clit. His large fingers are enough to cup all of it in one hand, and he tweaks her nipple sharply before guiding it into Slaine’s mouth. “Reward the princess for her compliance, Troyard.” Slaine wraps his lips dutifully around her breast, teeth scraping lightly over her nipple, and she falls back into a rhythm, trying to press herself against the pressure of Saazbaum’s fingers between her legs while she rides Slaine’s cock. 

It’s not until Saazbaum’s hand is off her breast that she realizes he must not have been holding the gun. She could have fought, and maybe grabbed the revolver for herself – but he had known that she and Slaine would both be too distracted to notice. She blinks back frustrated tears and presses against his steady, gloved hand, furious at him and at herself. The slight shift in angle and extra forcefulness of her grinding hips slams her harder against Slaine, and his cock hits something inside that takes her breath away. But Saazbaum’s hand – with the gun in it this time, damn him – settles on her hips, steadying her in the same position, and pushes her down once more. The rush of pleasure floods her again, this time at the same moment that Saazbaum presses directly on her clit, and she whimpers wordlessly, caught between the two of them.

“Just a little more, your highness,” says Saazbaum, his clinical, observant tone at odds with the way his breath tickles the hair at the back of her neck and his fingers play with her clit in time to her bouncing desperately on Slaine’s cock, striking the nerves inside her again, and again—. She can tell that he’s right because her clit is throbbing with the increasingly strong ripples of pleasure that heralded her last orgasm, and she wants, in the part of her brain that isn’t devoted to driving Slaine deeper, and deeper, and deeper into herself, to do something that Saazbaum hasn’t controlled, just once tonight. Something small enough that he’ll leave Slaine with her, but something significant enough to her and to Slaine to make it worthwhile.

Her hands slide up Slaine’s sweat-sheened back, up his neck, up to his cheeks. She slips the blindfold up and off his face, and is rewarded with the same wide-eyed, almost disbelieving appreciation that she’d seen on his face the first time they met. There is no hate in those eyes, no resentment, only a love bordering on worshipfulness. The sheer giddiness of the realization shatters an instant later, as the powerful ripples slam through her body again. Her cunt clenches hard around Slaine’s cock as the force of her orgasm rolls through her, leaving her blissful and lightheaded. It’s Saazbaum who supports her again, lifting her hips for a few more thrusts until Slaine comes as well, his loud groan muted against her skin. 

Saazbaum finally releases her, and she slides off of Slaine to rest beside him, her thighs a sticky and sweaty mess. Slaine’s eyes never leave her, and she rests her head against his shoulder, emotionally and physically drained. 

The sound of boot clicks moving away catches her attention, and both she and Slaine look up. Saazbaum is pausing in the doorway, holding a leash without a collar, and offering them one final, mocking bow. “Until tomorrow, your highness.”


	2. ii

They fall into a routine.

Evening after evening, she trades their bodies to keep Slaine with her for another day. Saazbaum directs them like show animals, putting them through their paces nightly. And so Slaine takes her against the viewport one evening, the chill of space at her back while the heat of his cock slams into her from the front. Then bent over the sofa the next, her breasts pressed against the fabric and the pattern of the brocade teasing her stiff nipples. She rides him while toying with her own clit one night, then the next reverses direction and fondles his balls as he thrusts into her and sucks down the back of her neck. All the while, Saazbaum issues confident orders, setting them into position with a leash-tug or a white-gloved hand. He never actually joins their unpracticed coupling; instead, he seems content to provide additional stimulation at her neck or breast or clit and to drink in their uncertain mix of love for each other and hate for him. He curates their frantic, youthful desire, directing both of them to heightened pleasure as a stark contrast to their captive despair.

And he rewards them when they cooperate with his whims. She earns a set of clean, simple prisoners’ clothes for Slaine by sitting on his face the second night, squirming as he cleans his own come from her sticky, swollen lips. She receives bandages by sucking Slaine’s tip while his cock thrusts between her breasts, and ointment for his cuts by pressing her legs closed as Saazbaum pours wine into the pale valley between her thighs and orders Slaine to drink. On the fifth night, shaking as Slaine nibbles his way up her thigh, she tries again to wrap herself in the air of an imperial princess, and demands that Saazbaum free Slaine’s hands.

“Are you that tired of his mouth?” the count asks, all solicitous mock concern, and yanks Slaine away from her. 

She squirms at the loss of contact but looks firmly up at Saazbaum. “He won’t try to escape if I could be hurt,” she says, with steady conviction. She decides to make the appeal with everything Saazbaum has left to her, and spreads her legs just a little wider, showing the pink folds of her cunt. “And he could do more to me…” 

Saazbaum hmms contemplatively, a hand running down Slaine’s spine. “Is that right, Troyard?” Slaine nods tightly, his eyes not leaving Asseylum, and Saazbaum jerks the leash. “Answer when your betters ask you a question.”

“Yes, my lord,” Slaine murmurs, with miserable, resigned politeness as Saazbaum’s thumb traces small circles at the small of his back. 

Saazbaum’s cold eyes flick back to her. “What will you offer, your highness?” She clenches her jaw and stares at him. They have made enough of these transactions by now that she knows what to expect. He will set the terms, and she and Slaine will comply. A moment later, he nods his acceptance of her silent compliance. “Lie back, and place your arms above your head.” 

She obeys uncertainty, and Slaine’s pale eyes watch her anxiously as she stretches out on the length of the couch, hair fanning out around her like a halo. Saazbaum pulls the snowy cravat from his neck, and Asseylum and Slaine both tense. She reaches out to put a hand on Slaine’s shoulder, reassuring him even as her heart climbs sickeningly into her throat. 

But Saazbaum gives her another thin-lipped smile and shakes his head. He drags a finger along her body, from the rise of her mons and the slight curve of her stomach and up her arm, taking her outstretched hand in his and lifting it back above her head. He presses her wrists together, binding them together with the soft fabric of the cravat. “I thought I made myself clear. My interest is in uniting the bloodlines of Aldnoah.” He knots the fabric, and she shifts uneasily in her makeshift bindings. They aren’t painful tight, but she can’t slip out or find any loose ends to pluck at. He pats her cheek. “And, perhaps, to amuse myself in the process.” He sinks into his customary chair, looking far more imperial than she does at the moment. “Troyard.”

Slaine tears his eyes away from her and stares at Saazbaum, eyes narrowed and still suspicious, before dipping his head in practiced deference. “My lord?”

“The rules are simple. You may not use your cock. Neither of you may come. She may not speak. You are otherwise free to do anything you like with her, for—” he checks a watch “—half an hour.” He flashes his customary revolver. “And don’t make this dull for either of us.”

Slaine hesitates a moment, uncertain. He and Asseylum have both grown used to dancing like puppets, following Saazbaum’s confident orders. This relative freedom leaves them in uncharted waters. “Yes, my lord,” he says quietly, slipping onto the couch beside her. He still moves awkwardly, with his hands pinioned behind his back, and she wriggles to one side make room for him. His eyes fix on the slight jiggle of her breasts as she moves, and she stretches out on the plush cushions, offering herself up to him. 

As expected, he goes for the smooth rise of her breast. Under Saazbaum’s persistent, unwanted tutelage, he’s become even better at using his mouth. His lips brush lightly over her nipple, then his tongue, licking at the sensitive, kiss-swollen skin of her areola. He blows softly over the wet skin, and her nipple stiffens into a small pink peak. She’s not certain why Saazbaum doesn’t want her to speak – she assumes he’s interested in what Slaine will do to her, when neither she nor Saazbaum are directing him – but isn’t willing to risk her reward of having Slaine unbound by insisting that Slaine move faster, give her more pressure. So she bites her lips and contents herself with little appreciative moans when he does something particularly nice.

Slaine, for his part, stays silent and methodical, using the various tricks Saazbaum has coaxed out of him over the last few days, this time at his own pace. He watches her intently, his adoring blue eyes taking in the way she bites her lip particularly hard or squirms especially forcefully. He traces circles around the soft flesh of her areola for a long minute while pointedly avoiding her nipple, which she thinks is an unbearable tease, but he seems to enjoy. He laps at the slightly sweat-sheened skin underneath her breast with broad strokes of his tongue, which tickles but isn’t especially interesting. He suckles forcefully at one breast with the barest hint of teeth, then switches to the other without warning; this light abuse her body already associates with a deep, fast fuck. She keens quietly and bucks her hips into empty air in anticipation even though there’s far too much time left in this half-hour before he can stick his cock in her or either of them can come. 

Slaine seems to realize that he’s pushing her too far, given the rules of this particular exchange. He moves away from her too-sensitive breasts and licks up the hollow of her exposed armpit. This is new for both of them, and his nose and tongue delving into her light curls is slightly embarrassing and more than slightly ticklish. She squirms unhappily beneath him, drawing a low laugh from Saazbaum. Slaine, discomfited either by her noiseless protests or Saazbaum’s mockery, raises his head and nestles at the crook of her neck. There are still red marks there, and he traces gently over them, his mouth leaving a wet trail up her skin that turns chilly in the cool, recycled air of her apartments. He takes her earlobe between his lips and repeats the same lick-and-blow movement that had been so pleasant against her breast; here, it only tickles lightly. She pouts silently, and Slaine looks up – not distressed at her expression, but slightly chagrined. She shrugs her shoulders as best she can with her arms pinned above her head to reassure him. He offers her a tiny, precious smile of relief, and gives her a light, almost chaste, kiss on her lips. 

At least, it’s chaste for a moment. He nibbles gently on her lower lip, teasing at it until she’s certain it will be bruised tomorrow morning. She’s not sure where he got the idea to do that, because Saazbaum has never pushed Slaine to do it, and he seems intent on rolling the soft flesh of her lip between his teeth. It’s a little too focused and forceful for her liking, so she parts her lips and invites him to deepen the kiss rather than continue bruising her lip. He accepts the offer immediately, brushing the tip of his tongue over her lips and her own tongue. His body shifts to lean over her, his chest pressing against hers, and she whimpers appreciatively at the gesture of quiet intimacy. 

Slaine varies his kisses experimentally, quick and then deep, altering the length or pressure in response to the encouraging hum of her wordless moans. He seems to have learned a lesson about how much forcefulness she can take without going mad, because when he finally pulls away from her mouth, he moves lightly up the curve of her arm, all the way to the tips of her fingers, which he teases with the tip of his tongue before drawing slowly, slowly, back down to her chest. The rest of Slaine’s allotted time passes in a flurry of languid licks and tiny bites, between her breasts and over the pale rise of her stomach, around the very edges of the curly hair between her legs, down her thighs and to her bare feet. She likes the little bites he leaves on her thighs the best, but he lingers longest on the gentle curve of her stomach. He’s traced his way back there and is nuzzling unhurriedly against the little dip of her belly button when he’s jerked away from her without warning.

Startled, she tries to sit, but the restraints on her arms make it difficult to pull herself up. Saazbaum has the gun in one hand and the key to an electronic lock in the other. He presses it to the bindings pinning Slaine’s arms behind his back, and pulls the constricting apparatus away. Slaine tears away from it and falls awkwardly back on top of her, apparently struggling to return feeling to his hands after days of constraints. She curls her legs around him protectively, and watches Saazbaum warily while Slaine shakily props himself up on his elbows. The count smiles beneficently at her. He discards the key and binding mechanism and strides to her bound hands this time, undoing the impromptu restraints with a series of swift tugs. He takes one of her hands in his glove and presses his lips to it, as though she were receiving him in her grandfather’s throne room. “Congratulations, your highness.”

She pulls away from him and reaches to [spoiler]hold Slaine’s hands[/spoiler]. His light calluses brush faintly against her fingertips, tantalizingly different from her own soft fingers or Saazbaum’s smooth gloves. She wants those callused fingers kneading at her breasts, or slipping down the small of her back, or massaging her clit as he fucks her… the last image makes her flush anew, and she squirms in the damp patch her needy cunt has left on the couch in the last agonizing half-hour of Slaine’s experimentation. He groans at the little movement beneath him, and pulls himself upright. She can see now that his cock is completely hard, and his eyes are fixed on her spread legs.

She doesn’t demand anything from Saazbaum, this time. Instead, she lifts her hips, exposing her slick, puffy lips to Slaine. With their fingers still intertwined, she guides his hand to his own cock, and his cock to her dripping cunt. She whines, high-pitched and out-of-control, as he settles his body over hers and enters in a fast, familiar thrust. Her nightly poundings have stretched her wide enough that she no longer feels pain when he puts his cock in her, just a deep, pleasurable satisfaction at having his throbbing shaft balls-deep within her. She raises her hips and clamps her thighs around him as he fucks her, angling so that he hits the nerves at the wall of her cunt. She’s so used to Saazbaum nudging her into place that it takes a moment to do it herself, but she yelps when she finds it and clenches her legs tighter around Slaine, pulling him in to her. 

Her clit feels woefully ignored, and she realizes she’s been spoiled by Saazbaum’s habit of rubbing her out while Slaine fucks her. But she wants Slaine there now, and she can have him now – so she folds her palm over the back of his hand, and lowers his fingers between her legs, just above his own cock. 

She guides his fingers to her clit and shows him the little circles that drive her wild, and she comes from a few more thrusts, a toe-curling, trembling orgasm that spreads from her belly through her whole body like a wildfire. Her fingers clamp over Slaine’s just as her cunt squeezes around his cock, and Slaine muffles a moan by burying his face in the soft curve of her neck. He comes perhaps a minute later, she’s too limp and warm to focus on something as insignificant as time, biting down on her shoulder possessively as he goes still inside her and then shakily withdraws.

She doesn’t want him to get up. She wraps her arms around his heaving chest, as possessive as he was a moment ago, and nestles slickly, messily against him. He acquiesces to this wordless demand with a nod of her head against her shoulder, and she thinks she feels his lips curve into a smile against her skin. They’re still there, hands and bodies intertwined, when Saazbaum’s boots click to the exit of her apartments, and he offers a polite “Good night, your highness” before the door slides shut behind him.

The next day, he arrives with Inaho Kaizuka.


	3. iii

“Inaho-san!” She’s on her feet in an instant, crossing the sitting room in a few frantic steps. 

Inaho’s mouth opens just a little in his usual restrained way of showing surprise. Saazbaum pushes him toward her, and she takes him by the shoulders worriedly. “Seylum-san… ah, no, it’s Princess Asseylum here…”

She looks him up and down, and sighs with relief. Inaho is in better condition than Slaine was; his arms are pinned behind his back, but he’s neither gagged nor blindfolded. The skin on the left side of his body is pink and peeling, like a burn starting to heal over, but he’s not patchworked with cuts and bruises. She suspects that the burn is related to a damaged kataphract, and that the lack of other marks means Inaho has been behaving since… whenever Saazbaum got hold of him. She glances to Slaine, but he looks as stunned as she feels. When she turns her attention back to Inaho, he’s giving her the same sort of curious look-over, and she flushes. She and Slaine are both dressed, thankfully, but there are visible marks from her ear to collarbone that reveal what she and Slaine have been doing over the last few days. 

“That’s right,” she says, with an unhappy smile, giving his unburned arm a slight squeeze. “How…?”

“The Deucalion was captured.” His voice is as collected as though he were explaining something else about the Earth physics, but his eyes don’t focus on hers. He looks vaguely in the distance he and Saazbaum arrived from, and she guesses that much of the rest of the crew is somewhere else in Saazbaum’s castle. The rest of her crew, she thinks, melancholy. Whatever mission they had undertaken that ended with them in this castle, she should have been there with them. Ah… but they aren’t just a crew for Inaho. Warrant Officer Kaizuka will be there as well, and Inaho’s wingmate, surly Rayet, and cheerful Inko. As detached at Inaho seems, as level as his voice is, the shift of his head indicates that he’s worried for them. He’s the same as her and Slaine – Saazbaum has someone to hold over his head. 

The question now is why Saazbaum has brought Inaho to her and Slaine, when Inaho has nothing to do with Saazbaum’s attempt to cross her bloodline with Doctor Troyard’s. She peers around Inaho’s shoulder, watching the count apprehensively. 

He acknowledges the open worry on her face with an elegantly raised eyebrow. “The Deucalion has been an irritant since this war began, and I understand that this pilot is responsible for most of the ship’s successes.” He runs a thumb under the leashless collar around Inaho’s neck. Inaho turns to look at him, for a moment, the slight knit of his brows hinting at quiet surprise. “He’s responsible for the deaths of many of your own nobles.”

“He was protecting me, as they should have been—” she says firmly, indignantly, but Saazbaum waves her into silence. 

“He was a problem, your highness. He has, however, wisely accepted the opportunity to take the opportunity to… make amends, for the trouble he’s caused.”

Inaho glances to the interior of the castle, then back to her, and nods minimally. Behind her, Slaine inhales sharply, surprised. He won’t want Inaho dragged into their twisted situation any more than she does, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to protest. When Slaine speaks to Saazbaum before being addressed, however, he usually acquires a new bruise for it, so she cuts in before Slaine can blurt out anything. “That won’t be necessary, Count Saazbaum.”

“Oh?” Saazbaum lifts an eyebrow and looks at Inaho, and drops his hand from Inaho’s neck. “You don’t think the crew of the Deucalion can be useful?” Saazbaum shrugs minutely. “As you wish, your highness. Baron Wilhoff will prepare an airlock.”

“He will not,” she insists, straightening at the blatant threat to her crew, but she sees what Saazbaum has set up for them. Usefulness. 

She and Slaine are alive because Saazbaum expects them to produce an heir to the power of the gods, and because it entertains him to treat them like a pair of puppets. And Inaho – no, her entire crew – are only alive because Saazbaum expects to be amused by adding Inaho to his collection of marionettes. If she rejects Inaho’s presence here, denying Saazbaum his perversions, he’ll have no reason to keep them here. 

She threads her hand in the crook of Inaho’s elbow and tugs him closer to her, a small gesture of possessive acceptance. His shoulders relax, a barely perceptible gesture under the loose fabric of his tunic. She thinks – hopes – that it is an expression of relief. 

“Princess—” Slaine starts to protest, but Saazbaum cuts him off with a look, and Slaine falls into browbeaten silence. 

“He has to help them,” she says, turning over her shoulder to look at Slaine. She makes her voice as gentle and reassuring as she can muster, considering that she’s just agreed to drag Inaho into their clockwork depravity to protect the Deucalion’s crew. “And that means we have to help him.” She puts a slight emphasis on the we, since by accepting Inaho’s presence here, she’s committed Slaine to whatever Saazbaum has in mind for the three of them. It clearly makes Slaine uncomfortable, but she knows that he’s too kind-hearted to sentence a ship’s crew to death by refusing Saazbaum now.

Slowly, Slaine nods his acceptance of her commitment. “Of course, princess.” 

Saazbaum closes the door behind him. “Then we will begin.” 

As it turns out, a new companion entails a new rule. 

Saazbaum is still determined to breed her with Slaine like a pair of prize hounds, which means that Inaho is forbidden to fuck her cunt. She flushes as Saazbaum delivers this particular instruction, even after the last few days of blatant debauchery. Inaho has always been kind to her – selfishly determined to keep her onboard the Deucalion, yes, but always kind – and she valued his respect and his gentle friendship. None of that will survive the next few nights, she thinks. Not when she sees her sucking hungrily on Slaine’s cock, or grinding her ass against Saazbaum’s hand until his gloves are soaked through.

But Inaho gives no outward sign of judging her or Slaine. He looks between the three of them studiously and calmly, even though Saazbaum’s clinical directness has Slaine pink-cheeked and slump-shouldered in embarrassment.

“Understood,” he says, when Saazbaum has finished setting the stage for that evening’s show. His shoulder tugs as though he’s about to give an automatic salute, before he remembers that his hands are still bound behind his back. His lips part in a silent oh of surprise, and he lets his shoulders slump awkwardly again. 

“That’s ‘yes, my lord,’” Saazbaum smirks. 

“Yes, my lord.” Inaho mimics Saazbaum’s tone exactly, straight-faced, turning the formality into an absurdity. She can’t tell if the strange intonation is Inaho mocking the count, or just being tone-deaf. Slaine, beside her, winces, and she realizes she’ll have to move quickly to spare Inaho a strike from the butt of Saazbaum’s customary revolver. She scrambles to her bare feet in hasty compliance with the count’s first directions for their nightly madness, hoping that her obedience will distract Saazbaum from Inaho’s inability to convey appropriate courtly courtesy. 

Compliance has the added benefit of placing her bodily between Inaho and Saazbaum. Saazbaum, in a perverse charade of respect for her title, never strikes her for anything. So she straddles Inaho in a graceless hurry, counting on the count’s own mocking quirk to protect her friend. 

Inaho takes a moment to pull his eyes away from the door and look at her. She doesn’t mind. If he’s focused on his sister and the rest of the Deucalion’s crew, this will be easier for both of them, without any of the gut-wrenching messiness of Saazbaum twisting her love for Slaine to his own ambitious ends. She inhales deeply to calm herself, then pulls herself closer to Inaho. She inches forward, holding herself a few centimeters above him, suspended above his lap without settling into it. The move leaves him at eye-level with her breasts, right where her nipples tent the not-quite-opaque fabric of her white shift. Inaho swallows hard. 

She crosses her arms and pulls the flimsy dress off and over her head in a smooth motion. Her unbound breasts rise and fall and settle into place directly in front of Inaho, her nipples stiffening slightly in the cool air. She bends her head to kiss him lightly, her long hair cascading around their faces like a curtain. In this fleeting moment of privacy, she mouths, silently – I’m sorry. 

To her surprise, he answers, equally soundless – I have an idea.

She’s so startled that she freezes there. Inaho waits a moment for her to regain control of herself and, when she still looks perplexed and hopeful a moment later, covers for her moment of confusion by craning his neck up to kiss her. 

It isn’t a good kiss. Her hair winds up between their lips, and Inaho withdraws quickly. But when he pulls away, she realizes that he looks… determined, and her heart catches in her throat despite the clumsiness of his gesture. 

“Reconsidering, your highness?” drawls Saazbaum, misconstruing her stillness.

She lifts her face from Inaho’s and shakes her head, dispelling their screen of concealing hair. “Of course not.” She’s surprised by the quiet strength of her own voice. Inaho’s plans have saved them in the face of seemingly insurmountable enemies before, and if he has an idea… they may survive escape this, after all. 

But an idea isn’t a plan, not yet, and right now their survival depends on obedience. 

She takes her own breasts in her hands, milky flesh spilling between her slender fingers as she kneads at them. Playing with herself is less interesting than being fondled by Slaine or even Saazbaum; she’s already familiar with the way the soft skin rises and falls underhand. But Inaho is fixated on the sight of it, his lips parted slightly and his eyes intent. She brushes the pad of her thumb over a nipple, which sends a tingle to her thighs, and she hums contentedly. There’s a sharp intake of air at this, but it comes from Slaine, not Inaho. For this particular show, Saazbaum has placed him at the foot of the couch, his hands clasped behind his back in a quintessential servant’s pose, reduced to watching from a distance while she fondles herself mere centimeters from Inaho.

The theme of the evening’s show is supposed to be control. Ostensibly, Saazbaum wants proof that she and Inaho can abide by his dictates. Her starring role is to masturbate herself to completion centimeters away from Inaho without him fucking her. But Inaho is so restrained in all other areas of his life that she doubts this would be difficult for him even without lives on the line, and ordering Slaine to watch the two of them without participating is so senselessly cruel that she knows Saazbaum has only directed this set-up for his own inexplicable amusement. As they push the white lace down and slip through 

That’s fine. If this isn’t a real test, she can concentrate on finishing this quickly and winning her crew’s safety. 

She gives her nipples one last tweak, then slides her hands over the taut curve of her stomach to her panties. The movement startles Inaho into following her fingers again – what had he been looking at, a moment earlier? The door? Saazbaum? – and he watches silently as they tug the lace down slightly, exposing a sliver of soft curls. She slides her hand into the hot, wet folds between her thighs, squirming experimentally until she brushes a fingertip over her own clit and moans. She rocks her hips against the steady, circling pressure of her own fingers. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine that it’s Slaine ‘s fingers on her clit, but her hands are too small and smooth for the fantasy to take root. Inaho’s hands, then–? They’re still pinned behind his back, but she considers what he’ll feel like. Not so fast as her own hands, probably; she imagines him being methodical and even, perhaps pinning her hips down and spreading her swollen lips to touch her more precisely…. She bites her lip. She’s never thought about Inaho like this before, but having him so close while she writhes against her own fingers is driving her unexpectedly wild.

She bucks down hard against her own fingers with a whimper, and something else brushes against the lace of her panties. She opens her eyes to see Inaho’s cock, hard and tenting his thin trousers, its fabric-covered tip just barely grazing her panties. She freezes in place like that, then glances at Saazbaum in mute horror, terrified that this is too far for the rules of Saazbaum’s game.

But he only smirks. “I told you,” he says, waiving a hand in lazy approval, “to come, and that he isn’t allowed to fuck you. So long as he doesn’t enter you… far be it from me to deny your pleasure, your highness.”

She tries to ignore the open mockery in his voice by turning back to Inaho. 

He’s exhaling with relief at Saazbaum’s words, and she feels guilty for being flustered by Saazbaum’s tone when a crew’s lives are at stake. She was supposed to finish this quickly, to pass the test easily, not lose herself in a fantasy. She pulls herself away from Inaho’s cock, but the quick movement only drags his head along the wet fabric. Suddenly, her own fingers don’t feel like enough to bring her to completion anymore. She wants to lower herself onto his lap and come with him buried in her to the hilt, but dutifully she raises herself on her trembling thighs and away from his cock. The two fingers she slips into her own cunt are nothing compared to what she wants, and the empty ache persists even as she brings herself to a breathy, moaning orgasm. 

Shakily, she settles herself on the couch next to Inaho. In the moment it takes her to stop feeling warm and boneless, she watches Slaine dazedly. His brows are furrowed in clear concern, and there are small divets in his lip as though he’s been biting it the whole time she was fingering herself above Inaho. He’s at least as hard as Inaho is; there’s a faint smear of pre-cum staining his trousers, and he’s red from his shoulders to his eartips. A rush of guilt scatters her post-orgasmic bliss, and she pushes herself upright to face Saazbaum.

He, however, seems to have anticipated her indignation. “Yes, congratulations, your highness. He’s yours to command.” His eyes fall on Inaho for a moment. “And the other one, so long as you remember your restrictions.”

She gives Saazbaum a tight, reasonably regal nod of confirmation, then reaches over the couch, tugging at Slaine’s arm. Awkward in his surprise, he lets her pull him onto the couch at her side, and bowls the three of them into an awkward heap of cushions and sweaty limbs. She draws them both nearer and snuggles between their shoulders, taking a long moment just to enjoy having them safe and close. 

Slaine and Inaho look at her, then at each other, mutually perplexed . She gives each of them a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then turns to Slaine. “Slaine?” 

She keeps her voice gentle and quiet, but he still squares his shoulders as though anticipating an order. “Princess?”

She spreads her thighs and lowers her hand from his shoulder to his cock, rubbing at it lightly through the fabric. “Would you…?”

He twitches beneath her fingers, and stammers, “Y-yes, princess.”

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, and shifts onto her knees between them, resting her head in Inaho’s lap and lifting her ass high for Slaine to take. “And… thank you, too, Inaho-san. For being patient with us.”

He’s nowhere near as demonstrative as Slaine; his slight surprise and anticipation of her settling her head so close to his cock only shows in the slight knit of his brows and his quick, shallow breathing. “Of course,” he says, then glances at Slaine and tilts his head, “princess.” Noble titles still roll awkwardly off her tongue, but she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t need subjects or servants in this room. She needs a friend who can succeed against impossible odds. 

She reaches for Inaho’s cock, her hands hovering just above the fabric until he realizes she’s waiting for his consent and nods. She lowers her lips and mouths at it through his thin trousers while Slaine slips her lacy panties to one side of her throbbing cunt and pushes into her. She moans around Inaho, warm and wet, every time Slaine slaps against the fleshy curve of her ass, finally eliciting a series of quiet gasps from Inaho. She glances up to see his head throne back and his eyes wide, and she realizes that neither of them will last long after Saazbaum kept them frustrated all that time. 

She tugs down Inaho’s trousers and laps her way around his freed cock with a few long, quick licks before taking him in her mouth and sucking wantonly, while Slaine fucks her frantically and kneads at her swaying tits. Saazbaum’s denied them for so long that she brings both of them to orgasm quickly. Inaho comes first, thrusting his cock forcefully into her mouth while his cum spurts past her pliant lips. Slaine follows a moment later, slamming into her with a guttural groan. When she slides off of him, sitting back against the cushions, Inaho’s cum drips down onto her breasts, pale against the needy red marks Slaine’s fingers have left on her skin. The boys – her boys – settle limply to either side of her.

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed him.” Saazbaum’s flinty eyes take in the sweaty, cum-covered mess they’ve made of her with arch amusement, but she nods and slips her arm around Inaho’s again. Keeping him here with her is worth whatever twisted pleasure Saazbaum takes in seeing the Vers princess royal slick and disheveled. “Very well, your highness. I’ll return for the three of you tomorrow.”

She stays in a spent, sweaty pile with them a while after Saazbaum departs before she can bestir herself to herd them all out of the sitting room and into the apartments’ small bathroom. Slaine and Inaho don’t quite know how to interact with each other, after their checkered history allying themselves and shooting at each other and allying themselves again. Slaine mostly avoids Inaho’s serious eyes, and they both have a tendency to talk to each other through her, which makes it difficult to come to a decision about how to take Inaho’s tunic off when none of them can remove his wrist restraints. She finally persuades Slaine to tear the thing off so she can bundle Inaho into the tub, and only after Slaine finishes, blushing, does she realize that Slaine is much more adverse to touching Inaho than he is to touching her. 

Inaho, for his part, shows no particular distress at Slaine touching him, and offers Slaine a somber thanks when the awkward process is done with. He pointedly looks away as she helps Inaho into the tub, even though she’d done the same for him until the previous night.

This, she realizes, will be a problem if Saazbaum orders Slaine to do anything to Inaho without her interposed between them. But it will also be a problem for their well-being. For the last few days, she and Slaine have clung to each other with a clear understanding that, whatever else, they can rely on each other. It makes the apartments safe, aside from Saazbaum’s daily intrusion. Slaine’s discomfort around Inaho will shatter that sense of security. 

She’s still contemplating how to ameliorate the tension as she pulls them into the oversized, absurdly imperial bed with her, and Inaho surprises her by turning to Slaine and asking, bluntly, “Does he always watch you instead of her?”

The question catches Slaine off-guard, too; he blinks and echoes, befuddled, “‘He’?”

“The count,” says Inaho patiently. When Slaine and Asseylum look at each other, uncomprehending, he frowns almost imperceptibly and continues. “When Seylum-san was—” he pauses as he sifts for the right word “—busy. It would make sense if he watched her. But he watched you.”

She frowns, too, glancing uneasily at Slaine. “But he wasn’t doing anything.”

Inaho nods, still serious. “That’s what makes it strange,” he agrees, looking at Slaine as though he were a useful new weapon for a kat. 

“How did you notice something like that when she—?” Slaine’s outburst trails off as he goes pink and averts his eyes from both of them. 

“Inaho-san is… observant,” she soothes, taking his hand reassuringly, even though she’s surprised herself. She’d caught him looking away once, but hadn’t realized he’d been observing Saazbaum so carefully. 

Still, it made sense, for Inaho. He noticed details about enemy kataphracts that no one else did, and now he’d noticed details about an enemy noble that neither she nor Slaine had, even though Inaho had only just stumbled into their strange arrangement. She turns to Inaho, wide-eyed and hopeful. “Is that part of the idea you had?”

He pauses, then nods again. “Probably.”

“‘Idea’?” Slaine steps between her and Inaho, suspicious and protective. “You can’t put the princess at risk.”

Inaho is nonplussed by the move. “She’s at risk here,” he says, still patient. “If Seylum-san has a child, he won’t have a good reason to keep either of you.” He pauses again, then corrects himself. “To keep any of us.”

She tightens her grip on Slaine’s hand. It’s something she’s thought about, but refused to voice. From the way that Slaine glances back at her, eyes narrowing rather than widening in shock, she guesses that he’s considered it as well, and decided it was too morbid to discuss. They’ve been focusing on keeping each other alive, moment to moment, while Inaho’s logical mind has raced ahead to this game’s conclusion. “But you have an idea of how to end this,” she queries tentatively.

“I won’t know if this one will work until tomorrow.” He glances away from the two of them to the interior of the castle, where their crew hidden away from him — where his sister and friends are hidden away from him. “But I will end it.”

There’s such assurance in his voice that she allows herself to believe him.


	4. iv

She wants to be as observant as Inaho is, really, but it’s difficult with his face in her cunt. She keeps looking down dragging her fingers through her dark hair, trying to force him deeper, but he continues at his own meticulous pace, nose nuzzling against soft, tickling curls as he buries his tongue in her snatch. “Inaho-san,” she whines, and rocks against his too-patient mouth, the movement grinding her round ass against Slaine. She’s been spread-eagled and wriggling in his lap since Inaho started eating her out, and his cock is rock-hard beneath his trousers. He pulls her closer, protectively her smooth back against his heaving chest. She likes the way his strong arms feel around her, and the way his fingers pinch greedily at her chest. If she could drive Inaho into senseless neediness the way she can stir up Slaine, she thinks, she would have been able to make him hurry, would have been able to come already… 

Frustrated and denied, she digs her own fingers between her lips, spreading them wide so that Inaho’s tongue will delve deeper. She tries to move her hand at the pace she wants, but Inaho ignores that, too, and their discordant rhythms disturb the steady pulses of pleasure that his tongue is sending through her. She finally submits to Inaho’s pace with a pout, and the hot ripples of pressure begin to build through her again. Her fingers clench in his hair as she comes, holding his hot tongue warm and motionless against her clit as the shuddering waves of her orgasm slam through her. 

She settles back against Slaine a moment later, feeling slightly embarrassed by her own neediness at the end and freeing Inaho from her tangling fingers. He lifts his head, non-plussed, and rests his chin on her mons, looking up at her expectantly. His serious expression is absurdly at odds with the tousled mess she’s made of his hair and the slick, shiny fluids drenching his face. 

“A fine start,” observes Saazbaum, “but you’ve left them rather uncomfortable, your highness.”

She doesn’t need him to point that out. Slaine’s cock is still pressed against her ass, and she doesn’t think that even restrained Inaho could eat her out without arousing himself. “They stayed where you instructed them,” she says carefully. She hopes Saazbaum’s next instruction will be for Slaine to take her, both because his hard cock so close to her cunt is already turning her on again and because Saazbaum usually doesn’t stay long after Slaine comes inside her. 

“They did. I suggest that you reward them for their obedience, your highness.” He leans back, feigning contemplation. “Your hands and mouth would be appropriate, I think. Troyard, Kaizuka. On your feet.” 

“Yes, my lord,” says Slaine instinctively, sliding out from under her. 

Inaho remains nestled between her thighs a moment longer, inhaling the musky smell of her cunt before following Slaine to his feet. “Yes, my lord,” he echoes, tonelessly enough to escape censure. 

She has a good idea of what Saazbaum expects. With her on the couch and them standing, their stiff dicks are just inches from her mouth. She slides her fingers down their stomachs and under their waistbands, tugging their trousers down before wrapping a hand around each cock. They’re hot and hard and slick with pre-cum, and she licks her lips at the thought of one of them losing control and shoving himself into her mouth. She gives them both a few quick strokes, dragging out a throaty groan from Slaine and a harsh intake of breath from Inaho. A little selfishly, she decides to pay Inaho back for his deliberate slowness. She turns her head and traces a wet, thin line up his dick with just the tip of her tongue, as slow as she can manage. His hips buck satisfyingly, and Slaine hisses jealously. 

She lifts her mouth away from Inaho slowly, a glistening strand of saliva stretching from the head of his cock to her pink, parted lips. Then she turns back to Slaine’s familiar dick, taking as much of him in her mouth as she can and pumping the rest of him beneath her curling fingers. It only takes a few noisy sucks before he’s wild enough to start fucking deeper. But she doesn’t want to ignore Inaho completely; she pulls off Slaine’s cock with a wet pop and twists to lap at Inaho again until he’s thrusting into her hand and against the tip of her tongue. 

“Sey… ah, princess,” he murmurs, throatily. She blinks up at him from beneath her lashes, wide-eyed, and gives him another long, slow lick. He sighs, apparently quietly resigning himself to her wordless reprimand. 

Then he catches her completely off guard by leaning forward and kissing Slaine.

He must have caught Slaine off guard, too, because Slaine yelps, undignified, and pulls away. “You—!” She glances up to see Inaho not quite looking at Slaine. He seems to be staring past the other boy at – 

At Saazbaum, of course. Inaho’s words come back to her in a rush – Does he always watch you instead of her?

She slips her hand from Slaine’s cock to take his and in a silent plea for him to calm down. It doesn’t quite work; he’s shaking slightly and is tense all over, glaring at Inaho in open anger and embarrassment, and she worries that Slaine will pull away before Inaho can confirm his suspicions about Saazbaum. She takes hold of Slaine’s cock again, putting her mouth around it for good measure to keep him in place. Inaho presses forward again, his dick rubbing against her cheek as he presses her between himself and Slaine. With her mouth around Slaine’s cock, she can’t quite see what Inaho is doing, but from the intermittent deep breaths and the way Slaine stays furiously tense, she suspects Inaho has gone back to kissing Slaine. 

Curiously, she pulls away from Slaine’s dick to peek tentatively at Saazbaum. Sure enough, his eyes are fixed on Inaho and Slaine above her. Instead of reclining languidly, he’s leaning ever so lightly forward, and his usual thin smirk has broadened. Inaho was right about Saazbaum. But Slaine is not particularly interesting to watch right now, standing there awkwardly while Inaho kisses him. She corrects this by ducking back and redoubling her efforts on Slaine’s dick, pulling out all the tricks that she’s learned he likes. She abandons Inaho for a moment and licks her way over Slaine’s balls while she slides her hands down his shaft, then switches and cups his balls while taking his cock so deep in her mouth that she gags on it, the back of her throat constricting around his dick. As expected, it’s enough to distract Slaine from his distaste for Inaho, and she hears Inaho cutting off Slaine’s moans with a stream of kisses. The sound of them, and the way their sweat-sheened bodies writhe as they sandwich her between them, leave her dripping wet on the cushions. She wants to pull herself upright and interpose herself between their kisses, to have her breasts pressed flat between their firm bodies and to have their cocks between her legs instead of in her face. But she understands what Inaho is trying to do – or, at least, she thinks she does, so she stays where she is, squirming in her own musky juices. 

Gradually, Slaine’s body slumps submissively as Inaho presses closer against him, and the unhappy moans melt into the heavy breaths that indicate he’s about to come. His cock twitches between her lips and he spills down her throat; she drinks it all down with a thirsty moan to show her gratitude for his compliance. When Slaine slumps back on the couch, watching her with brows knit in obvious confusion, she turns back to Inaho. 

She doesn’t bother with teasing licks now; she takes him deep in her mouth and runs slick fingers over his balls until he comes with a gasp and settles back on the couch beside her and Slaine, his lips stretched into a tiny, pleased smile. He was right, she thinks, suddenly giddy. He was right, and he would have a way to stop this. She has to bite her cheek to stop herself from smiling back at him. 

Saazbaum, thankfully, misinterprets her look. “You continue to surprise me, your highness,” he smirks, back in his usual relaxed posture. “Troyard, don’t leave the princess dripping on my furniture.”

“Yes, my lord,” he says deferentially, but she thinks she hears a note of relief in his voice at the order – because it doesn’t involve Inaho, most likely. He gives himself a few quick strokes, coaxing himself to half-hardness while Saazbaum lists off the particulars. 

“On your back, your highness. Troyard, she’s been craving your cock since I arrived; do make it worth her wait.” She tries to chase away her frustration with being talked about that way by considering Saazbaum’s words as Inaho would and – ah, this gives the count a direct view of Slaine, doesn’t it? The way his shoulders strain as he plunges into her, the shifting muscles of his angular ass… if Saazbaum wants to watch Slaine instead of her, the position makes perfect sense. 

She doesn’t think Slaine comes to the same conclusion; his lips just thin hearing Saazbaum talk about her so bluntly, and he moves to comply without complaint, masturbating himself while she stretches out on the couch. She expects the shift to leave her in Inaho’s lap, but he’s slipped to the arm of the couch. She cranes her neck curiously and stretches her hands out to him, looking at him upside down as Slaine pushes gently into her. He’s calm, but his eyes are narrowed and focused. He’s planning something else, she realizes.

But Slaine chases the thought away by lifting her hips and hitting the cluster of nerves inside her, stealing her attention away from Inaho. 

She’s so focused on Slaine that she completely misses when Inaho rising to his feet behind her. But when Slaine pauses and turns his head, she follows his gaze to see… Inaho, bare feet quiet on the cool floor, crossing the room to Saazbaum. She props herself up on her elbows, alarmed, to watch Inaho sink to his knees at Saazbaum’s feet, naked and vulnerable… and to watch Saazbaum press the revolver against Inaho’s forehead, his finger on the trigger. She can only see Inaho’s face in profile, but he looks impossibly calm and serious, even with the gun to his face. The relaxed set of his shoulders makes it look like he thinks he’s in control of this situation, even with Saazbaum holding a gun to his head. 

“Know your place, Terran,” Saazbaum says cooly, and Asseylum’s heart races as she tries to determine whether it’s safe to interject. Inaho thinks he knows what he’s doing, clearly, but she can’t leave him to stare down the barrel of a gun alone— 

Inaho cranes his neck, so that the tip of the revolver brushes against his lips. “Yes, my lord.” He lets the barrel part his lips, and licks it, as light as she had been licking Inaho’s cock earlier. Saazbaum’s eyes narrow, but he makes no move to pull the trigger. He holds it there a minute more, while Inaho slides his mouth over the metal, his dark head bobbing. 

Finally, Saazbaum shifts, spreading his legs so that Inaho is kneeling between his knees, and the move reveals a growing bulge in his well-tailored dress pants. “What is it that you want, Terran?”

“Warrant Officer Yuki Kaizuka for the Deucalion,” Inaho says quietly, looking up the barrel of the revlver at Saazbaum. “I want a letter from her.” He pauses and adds, as a clear afterthought. “My lord.”

Saazbaum smiles wryly. “Not the most appropriate answer, but an acceptable one.” He pulls an electronic key from his jacket and bends to tap it to Inaho’s wrist restraints, ripping them off in a swift gesture so forceful that it makes even Inaho wince slightly. But Inaho remains where he is even while he shakes his feeling back into his hands, and Saazbaum leans back, looking at Inaho with an interest she’s only seen – when he looks at Slaine, she realizes. He keeps the gun in his hand, but lowers it to the arm of the chair. “Very well, Terran. Begin.” His eyes flick to her and Slaine; they’re both staring wide-eyed and frozen at Inaho. “No one instructed you to stop, Troyard.”

“I – apologies, my lord,” Slaine says, flustered. He snaps his attention back to her, but his face is all frowning confusion. She can’t fault him for it in the slightest. He fucks her distractedly and, compared to the last few days, unsatisfyingly, while she twists her neck awkwardly to keep watching Inaho. He unzips Saazbaum’s uniform with his characteristic steadiness and lowers his head to Saazbaum’s half-heard cock. It takes her a few minutes to realize that Inaho is mimicking what she’s done to him and Slaine the last few nights – starting with light, long licks, then taking Saazbaum’s heavy cock in his mouth and cupping the balls in his fingers. Inaho can’t take as much as she can, and Saazbaum begins murmuring instructions too quiet for Asseylum to hear. Even as he directs Inaho, she sees his eyes flick occasionally to Slaine. 

She’s so distracted that it takes longer than usual for Slaine to bring her to orgasm, and it’s a quick and disappointingly tidy one rather than the whole-body affair she’s come to expect. But her body’s convulsions are enough to coax Slaine into fucking her faster and harder, and he comes with a deep-throated groan a few minutes later. 

“Slaine,” Inaho calls, before he’s even pulled out of her. “You should help here.” 

Slaine’s mouth opens in a wordless mix of shock and indignant disgust, and she’s inclined to agree. She wraps an arm possessively, protectively around his arm as she props herself up to look at Inaho, confused. She’s not certain, at first, whether this is part of Inaho coming up with a plan, or whether Inaho has just been corrupted by the general depravity of their situation. But he has the same focused face she’s seen when he assigns mission tasks, and he still looks like he thinks he’s in control of things, even with his hands curved around Saazbaum’s dick. Saazbaum, for his part, is looking from Slaine to Inaho and back to Slaine again. Reluctantly, she releases her tight grasp on Slaine’s forearm. The small gesture elicits a deeper look of revulsion – and even worse, his shoulders slump and his mouth slips into a frown, and he looks at her as though she’s somehow betrayed him. 

And she feels like she has, as she places a hand on his chest and pushes him lightly in Inaho’s direction. She’s encouraging him to give himself to a man who’s almost broken them, and he has always taken her slightest encouragement as a command. Logically, she knows that following Inaho’s lead could save all their lives, but logic does nothing to assuage the deep sense of loss that washes over her as Slaine’s lips form a soundless – yes, princess.

When he turns his face away from her, she hopes they’ll all live long enough for him to forgive her. 

She lies there for a moment, feeling miserable, but forces herself to sit and witness what she’s just consigned Slaine to. Inaho takes his wrist and tugs Slaine to the floor beside them, so that their naked bodies are pressed together between Saazbaum’s high boots. Inaho slides his fingers into Slaine’s fair hair and pushes Slaine’s face to Saazbaum’s thick cock. 

Slaine winces for a moment, frowning in disgust, then reluctantly flicks out his tongue for an unhappy lick. Saazbaum’s attention, she notices, stays fixed completely on Slaine. She thinks Inaho must have taken a moment to gauge Saazbaum’s reaction, too, because he stays still a moment before joining Slaine on Saazbaum’s cock. They’re a striking contrast: Slaine’s eyes wide with shame and revulsion as he takes the head of Saazbaum’s dick, Inaho blank-faced as he mouths at the balls and curls wraps his fingers around the base. Saazbaum must be pleased with the pair of them, because his orders are quick and infrequent – commanding Slaine to swallow deeper here, directing Inaho to move more quickly there. But, miserable as she is, it seems to take forever before Saazbaum finally comes. Slaine tries to pull away, but Saazbaum holds him in place by his hair while Slaine gags on his cum. 

When Saazbaum finally releases him, Slaine actually scrambles backward in a heap, coughing onto the floor as cum drips down his chin. Saazbaum laughs openly at him as he pulls a handkerchief to clean himself and stands. “You could learn manners from your Terran friend,” he drawls, zipping himself back up into the clean, crisp image of an Orbital Knight. Slaine shoots a hateful glance at Inaho, who accepts it stoically. Saazbaum puts the heel of his boot beneath Slaine’s chin. “A count is addressing you, Troyard.”

Slaine’s eyes fall to the floor. “Of course, my lord.” She’s fairly certain that only years of practicing that deferential tone has let him grit it out now. He stays hunched on the floor until the door slides shut behind Saazbaum, then wheels on Inaho. “What was that, orange?” he spits, rubbing furiously at his chin.

Inaho frowns slightly, but doesn’t recoil. “Testing,” he says, as though it should be obvious.

Slaine spreads his arms in sweeping disbelief. “Testing what?”

Inaho points at him. “How much ‘Doctor Troyard’ means to him.”

This is startling enough to convert most of Slaine’s anger into shock. “My father?” he asks, blankly. 

He nods. “He was on the moon eight years after Heaven’s Fall, yes?” Slaine nods uncomfortably. “He was studying the ruins of the Gate.”

“He might have been…” Slaine looks to her for support, but this is as new to her as it is to him. “Where did you hear that?”

“Lieutenant Marito found the records of his research. But those records don’t make sense, because Doctor Troyard shouldn’t have reached the Gate ruins. At that time, people from Earth couldn’t go to the moon, not with the castles in the way.”

“I thought the United Forces arranged it,” Slaine frowns, “as a diplomatic mission.”

“That’s a lie,” Inaho says firmly. “There’s no request like that in any UF databank. Colonel Magbaredge thought Doctor Troyard must have been close to an Orbital Knight.” And he points, calmly, at the door.

“My father? With an Orbital Knight—?” The meaning of Inaho’s pointed finger hits him a moment later. “With Saazbaum?” he yelps. “And by close, you think—”

“It was only a hypothesis,” Inaho continues, unruffled, and counts off factors on his fingers. “Doctor Troyard. An unknown Orbital Knight. That man’s knowledge of Doctor Troyard’s research. The way he watches you. It fit. I just needed to be sure he really was fixated on you.” 

Slaine sits back on his haunches, shell-shocked. She only remembers a little bit about Doctor Troyard, but it’s a surprise to her, too. She knew he was interested in Aldnoah, but she would never have imagined him having… anything at all to do with Saazbaum. “Inaho-san,” she says quietly, filling in for Slaine’s stunned silence, “how does that help us?”

He takes a deep breath, and begins to explain.


	5. v

Knowing that this is part of Inaho’s plan doesn’t make Slaine’s deepening unhappiness any less painful to watch.

Saazbaum’s commands place the three of them into increasingly twisted knots. She takes Inaho between her breasts and sucks the slippery head of his cock while Slaine fingers her; she writhes on the floor while Slaine fucks her and Inaho dips his head to cover her in patient, teasing kisses; she grinds against Inaho’s hard cock through the soaked lace of her panties while pressing Slaine’s mouth to her breasts. 

And Inaho – Inaho touches Slaine without even being ordered. He buries his face in Slaine’s ass while she has Slaine’s cock in her mouth, and she only keeps Slaine from yanking away from Inaho by curling her fingers around his thighs. He teases Slaine’s dick with his bare foot unselfconsciously while Slaine, fingering her, goes furiously pink. He pins Slaine at Saazbaum’s feet, steady hands wrapped around Slaine’s wrists, and grinds their cocks together until their stomachs are covered in a sticky mess of cum. Saazbaum never orders Inaho to do any of it, but neither does he object. He sits and smirks at the way Slaine squirms under Inaho, at the way Slaine tries to stifle the noises he makes when he comes against Inaho’s skin, at the way Slaine struggles and then slips into miserable submission. 

The atmosphere in the apartments sours. Finally, Slaine rounds on Inaho, shaking angrily even though she has her arm wrapped around his. “This isn’t even working! He doesn’t even want it, you just want–” He looks away a moment, then glares back at Inaho. “You’re as bad as he is.”

Inaho keeps applying salve to his burns for a moment, then turns to Slaine. “You’re saying that because you’re angry.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but there’s a warning edge to it. 

His hands ball into fists. “Of course I’m angry.”

“You should be angry at him, not at me.” He frowns faintly. “Or at her.”

Slaine’s flushing face goes white as he glances at her. “At – princess, I’m not…”

Inaho leans forward. “You won’t meet her eyes as much. You don’t touch her as much when we’re alone.” Again, that clinical observation. “That’s ‘angry,’ isn’t it?”

Slaine won’t look at either of them; he stares at the ground, head hanging guiltily. She feels as miserable as he looks, because she’s noticed the same thing as Inaho – but unlike Inaho, she thinks Slaine is perfectly within his rights to hate her. Inaho is clever and observant, but he doesn’t know how deeply Slaine feels obligated to her. He doesn’t understand the way Slaine has tried to give her everything she’s asked for since she found him in the baths five years ago, whether it was exploring the forbidden underlevels of her grandfather’s palace as children or teaching her about Earth before her doomed peace mission. And he doesn’t understand that Slaine only submits to him because she gives him wordless encouragement to go alone with Inaho’s plans.

She isn’t worthy of that sort of devotion, not when she’s abused it so much over the last few days. But Slaine still loves her, even if she doesn’t deserve it, so she reaches to fold him in a hug. “It’s fine,” she assures him. “You should be angry with me.”

He buries his face in her shoulder, and light, hot tears brush against her skin. “You really trust him?”

She smooths his fluffy hair as though comforting a child. “I do.”

Slaine stays there a moment, eyelashes fluttering against her as he blinks back the rest of his bottled-up tears, before he lifts his head and looks her in the eye again. She doesn’t see anger there, but there’s no hope, either. 

“Are you finished?” Inaho asks politely, ruining the moment. When both of them turn to stare at him, he blinks. “Ah. You are now.” 

“Inaho-san…” she says faintly, taken aback by his complete lack of tact. He’s uncannily perceptive, but his reactions to things still befuddle her.

“He wants to know why that man never asks.” He blinks at her, nonplussed. “But that’s obvious. He doesn’t want you to see his weaknesses.”

“Weaknesses?” she echoes. “Saazbaum?”

“That he wants the bat’s ass,” Inaho says, straight-faced and unabashed. Slaine groans and looks like he wants to sink into the duvet and die. “It was smart of him to try to hide it, but I can make him do something about it soon.”

Over the next nights, Inaho directs Asseylum and Slaine discretely, always pushing them closer to Saazbaum while Slaine fucks her, then molesting Slaine himself. For all that Slaine resents Inaho, Inaho still manages to wring noisy, strung-out orgasms from Slaine by mimicking everything Asseylum herself does to pleasure Slaine. There’s no question that Inaho is getting his expected reaction from Saazbaum, who hasn’t touched her since he added Inaho to his menagerie. The count ignores Asseylum completely while Inaho blows Slaine at Saazbaum’s feet one night, then sticks his tongue in Slaine’s ass and jerks him off with both hands as Slaine sucks Saazbaum off the next evening. 

“As expected,” Inaho murmurs thoughtfully, as Saazbaum departs and Asseylum wipes cum from Slaine’s chin. “Maybe tomorrow…?”

The next night, she rides Slaine with his back pressed against Saazbaum’s boot while Inaho licks at both of them, from Slaine’s balls to her throbbing clit. Slaine and Inaho are familiar enough with her body now that they bring her to a screaming, shuddering orgasm at the same time Slaine comes inside her. She slides off Slaine’s cock and leans against him, too blissfully lightheaded to move away, but Saazbaum interrupts their post-coital reverie by taking hold of Slaine’s arm, pulling him to his feet. 

“Well timed, Troyard.” His usual drawl is gravelly, and he looks Slaine’s sweaty body up and down with heavy-lidded interest. 

Slaine freezes as though caught in a predator’s gaze. Asseylum shoots a frightened glance at Inaho, who gives her a tight, reassuring nod, and she brushes a discrete, reassuring hand against Slaine’s ankle. He doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t jerk away. “I – thank you, my lord.”

With gun in hand, Saazbaum wraps an arm around Slaine’s waist, buckling Slaine’s knees and forcing him to straddle the count. On the floor, Inaho taps her hand for her attention and mouths – Tonight. She nods fractionally, and glances back up to see Saazbaum withdrawing a small pot of clear liquid from a coat pocket and pressing it into Slaine’s hands. With the other hand, he lowers the gun, using the barrel to part Slaine’s ass cheeks and brushing the tip at the tight knot of Slaine’s hole. Asseylum’s heart beats with such pounding panic that she’s sure Saazbaum will hear and suspect something, but his attention is all on Slaine. He seems content to leave her and Inaho on the floor at his feet, a pair of discarded toys. “Begin with your fingers,” he says, clearly reveling in Slaine’s panic. “Unless you’d prefer the alternative.”

Slaine’s eyes widen, understandably horrified. “As you wish, my lord.” With mortified slowness, he dips his fingers into the fluid and slides them down the crack of his own ass, hand brushing past the revolver. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth, and presses one slick finger into his own hole. He winces, but the gun at the back of his hand is apparently enough to motivate him to slide the finger in and out with a few wet pops. 

“Fingers, plural.” Slaine’s head dips in embarrassment, but he adds a second finger, then a third, until he’s fucking his own hand in Saazbaum’s lap. Asseylum wants to look away, but Inaho is watching all of it with intense alertness, and she knows that if this is going to work, she needs to keep watching Saazbaum. The count’s breath quickens as Slaine continues the show, until Saazbaum’s hand drops to his crotch, and he opens his pants to free his erect cock. He takes his own dick in one hand and digs the gun into Slaine’s hip with the other, forcing Slaine to sink until the head of Saazbaum’s cock is pressed right against his ass. “Lower, Troyard.” 

“… yes, my lord,” whispers Slaine, shaking voice heavy with both hate and fear. Saazbaum chuckles at his panic, which she thinks must be the worst sound in the world until she hears Slaine gasp with pain as he sinks onto Saazbaum’s cock. The nosie reminds her of her own first time on Slaine’s dick, but Slaine doesn’t even have the small comfort of fucking someone he cares about. She starts to rise, to give Slaine some relief or distraction by jerking him off, but Inaho shakes his head at her, a tiny warning gesture, and gets to his own feet. He slides beneath Saazbaum’s arm, perching himself on the side of the chair, just inside Saazbaum’s hold on Slaine. Inaho kisses his way down Slaine’s neck, but puts on hand on Slaine’s cock and the other on SLaine’s hips. He pushes Slaine down and pumps his dick at the same time; Slaine gives a quick yelp at the mix of pain and pleasure, and Saazbaum raises an eye at Inaho, appraising. He doesn’t send Inaho away. 

Inaho seems to take that as approval. He forces Slaine up and down on Saazbaum, jerking Slaine off rhythmically. Saazbaum takes the two of them in with clear delight, ruffling Inaho’s hair with the gun and digging his other gloved hand into the tight, flexing muscles of Slaine’s ass. The minutes pass in an agonizingly slow crawl as she watches them; as nervous as she is, she just wants this to be done with, she wants Saazbaum to finish with them so she doesn’t have to watch the tears of frustration and pain rolling down Slaine’s cheeks. Inaho leans in, licking the tears away, then leans in to cover Slaine’s mouth in his own. It’s a messy gesture by Inaho’s usual standards, since Slaine is bouncing up and down on Saazbaum’s dick, but it makes the count groan quietly. Inaho blinks and slides his fingers from Slaine’s ass to the back of his head, digging into Slaine’s fair hair and pushing Slaine’s lips against the count’s. Those strong fingers keep Slaine trapped in place as Saazbaum forces his way casually into Slaine’s mouth. This trick of Inaho’s, apparently, is enough to break Saazbaum’s cool façade; he digs his fingers deeper into the flesh of Slaine’s ass and shoves him up and down at a new, faster pace, slamming into Slaine with enough force that Slaine starts gasping in pain again. 

Almost. Almost, almost…

Saazbaum comes in Slaine with a low grunt, and that moment of complete mindlessness, Inaho moves. He strikes at Saazbaum’s hand from within the count’s arms, sending the revolver flying. Asseylum darts to catch it before it can hit the floor, and springs to her feet. Saazbaum regains his wits just in time to turn and see her holding the barrel of his own gun a centimeter from the middle of his forehead.

“Fiat justitia,” she whispers, and pulls the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted (serialized?) this on /a/, which is why every other word is "cock" and nothing is spellchecked. I'm not taking the spoiler tags out; they still make me laugh.
> 
> 8/27: Episode 8 status: blown the fuck out by Boku no Pico guy's lewdness.
> 
> 9/27: Jossed as fuck. As fuckkkkkk.


End file.
